


Aftermath

by sixfarthingsless



Series: Aftermath [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags will be added as the fic progresses, Work In Progress, please bear with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 06:05:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10938525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixfarthingsless/pseuds/sixfarthingsless
Summary: After a fruitless search in Mexico for a missing Derek, Scott and Stiles return to Beacon Hills. Stranded on the highway, they watch as Beacon Hills is all but destroyed by what the government claims is a rare storm. The pack don't believe the explanation, and neither does the Sheriff, but what really happened in Beacon Hills that night? And where is Derek?Set shortly after season 5.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Big shout out and thank you to Flick and Cat for editing, cheerleading, and putting up with me sending them chapters at 3 in the morning.  
> This fic has been in the works for a long time (I've been working on it and planning since season 5), and it's been chopped and changed over the past few months, especially over the course of season 6, and it's very much a work in progress right now. 
> 
> I really, really hope you like it.

The new moon hung low over the freeway, and wind howled like a wolf through the cars. It was a cool winter night, and the traffic was gridlocked, drivers could just make out collapsed bridge further down the road. The radio struggled to pick up a signal, tuning in and out of the traffic updates. The wind was picking up, and Stiles muttered something about a storm coming in.

The cars rolled forward slightly and stopped abruptly. Somebody leaned on their horn as they narrowly avoided colliding with the car in front, despite it being their own fault.

Scott tapped his fingers on the car door, staring out onto the traffic beside them. An elderly couple bickered over a map while their grandchildren slept in the back, unaware they’d been virtually non-moving for two hours. In front, a woman fought with her conscience. The longer she stayed in traffic, the longer she stayed away. Scott could hear her heartbeat, hear her struggle.

“Okay, so, I may have been wrong when I said this was a shortcut,” Stiles said, switching off his jeep’s engine. It was clear they were going nowhere, and he didn’t want to drain his car’s battery.

“You think?” Scott replied, a slight smirk on his face.

“It’s not like I knew this would happen, Scott. I didn’t wake up today wanting to sit in traffic for the rest of the nigh-”

Scott’s ears perked up as he heard a distant rumbling. What was that?

“Stiles,” Scott warned, hoping he would take the cue to be quiet. There was a flash of lighting, which illuminated the entire road. Thunder clapped directly above them, the wind picking up quickly.

“What’s happening?” Stiles looked out of the window towards the sky, which had turned a shade of grey he had come to associate with violent storms.

“Dry storm?” Scott suggested, hoping the uneasy feeling in his stomach would pass. Something felt wrong, the air felt charged with something… unnatural. Something abnormal was about to happen, Scott could sense it.

The ground beneath them shuddered, the car shaking from side to side.

This was no dry storm.

The freeway was lit again as sheet lightning flashed, followed by a lightning fork hitting the gantry above their heads. What the fuck?

People outside were screaming, some leaving their cars and scattering in all different directions. Scott saw the elderly grandparents hobbling across the road, grandchildren in their arms.

Scott looked to his friend, unsure what to do. Stiles unbuckled his belt and steadied himself against the frame of the car as the earth gave another shake.

Stiles jumped out of the car, as the earth shifted. The gantry above them made a horrific screech as it struggled to stay up, rattling with the floor. Car alarms blared, and Scott felt like he was going into sensory overload, too much to hear, feel, see.

“Scott, come on, we have to go,” Stiles shouted over the noise of the gantry. “Scott!” He grabbed Scott’s wrist, dragging him with him. It was unlike him to be so seemingly oblivious, but Stiles knew he was hearing so much more than anyone else, he knew Scott would be trying to tune it all out.

The ground shook again, then stilled. The gantry gave a sickening crunch then snapped in half. Half stood still, and the other rocked back and forth before falling backwards, towards Scott and Stiles. Stiles froze, he couldn’t move if he tried, mesmerised by the falling gantry.

Stiles felt himself being dragged backwards and he covered his head, expecting to crushed. He heard the smash of glass and looked around. It had landed inches from him.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, head whipping around to find Scott holding his arm, breathing heavily. He had to fight to stay human.

The earth gave another shudder, and the sky was lit up once more. The wind whipped and Stiles held his hand up to his face, reaching behind him to find Scott, realising the grip had loosened. He was gone. Stiles pivoted, and saw Scott running the other way.

“Scott, wrong way, you’re going-”

He saw Scott jump across one car, landing on the next. He jumped on another, balancing himself as the earth shook. He leaped forward, landing next to a white car, looking inside and around the window. He smashed the car window, reaching in so far only his legs were visible, and pulled a tiny baby from inside.

Everyone else had left the road, there was no knowing where or who its parents were. Scott ran back towards Stiles, holding the baby to his body, protecting it from debris flying around them.

Stiles ran, Scott a few steps behind him. The sky lit up again, everything suddenly becoming calm, like the eye of the storm. They stopped, unsure where to go or what to do.

“Stiles, get down!” Scott yanked Stiles to him, and they dropped to the floor, Scott cradling the baby. The sky flashed green, splitting, with a light shining to the ground a few miles away. The sky boomed, rumbling loudly; fork lightning landed a few feet from them.

“That’s Beacon Hills!” Stiles heard Scott shout over the wind.

The baby beneath him cried, and he pulled it closer to him, trying to comfort it. The earth gave a final earth splitting shudder. Two cars slipped into the crack, landing sideways with a deafening crunch.

Everything stilled, though Stiles kept his eyes on the light streaming down to Beacon Hills. His dad was down there. His best friends were down there.

Suddenly the light fragmented and sent shockwaves in every direction. Glass shattered, raining down on them. Stiles looked up, cuts on his face and arms. Scott brushed the glass from Stiles’ hair, making sure he was okay.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Stiles shouted, sure he had irreparable damage to his ears. The baby beneath Scott was screaming, and he checked it over, hushing it gently.

Stiles’ phone was ringing and he answered without even looking, hoping it was his dad. Before he could speak, screaming came over the line.

“Lydia? Lydia?” He shouted. Was she screaming in pain? Or was it a Banshee’s scream? He couldn’t tell, and he couldn’t get her to answer him. He needed to know she was okay, that their friends were okay.

“They’re all going to die.” Lydia rasped, her voice tired and worn. Who? Who was going to die? Stiles couldn’t ask. He was frozen in fear. The line went dead, the dial tone letting him know the call was over. Stiles’ mouth felt dry and his legs were shaking, all his adrenaline leaving his body. He breathed for a second, hoping to find something to say. His mouth worked before his brain:

“Scott, what the fuck?”


	2. Found Wanting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, this is chapter one, but because of the prologue it's kinda screwed the numbering.

Scott leaned against the wall beside Stiles’ locker, shouldering his book bag. His friend had been rambling on and on about research he had done the night before for over forty-five minutes, and it was all going over Scott’s head.

He had no idea what some of the things Stiles was saying even meant, but he tried to feign as though he did.

Stiles had borrowed every single supernatural book from the library, had raided Deaton’s supply, had searched every inch of the catalogued internet. Nothing explained what had happened.

It had been three weeks since that night. Since Beacon Hills’ mysterious explosion. The government had been quick to come forward and explain it as a rare form of storm caused by atmospheric changes. The light and explosion was ‘lightning’ and ‘strong winds’.

The pack didn’t buy that one bit.

They’d been researching constantly, usually meeting at Stiles’ house so the Sheriff could get involved. Sheriff Stilinski didn’t understand anything that was in those books, but he knew the official explanation was bullshit.

The Sheriff was looking down military routes, he was convinced it was some kind of bomb, a missile firing gone wrong, something. Anything but it being a storm.

“And it’s not like dad’s having much luck, either, you know even his old captain refuses to look in to it,” Stiles closes his locker, clicking the lock into place. “People died, Scott, calling it freak weather patterns doesn’t do it. So, I was looking in The Bestiary,”

Scott nodded when it was appropriate, trying to take it all in. It was too damn early to be talking this much. Stiles had so much to say when he pulled up to Scott’s in his jeep that morning.

He knew what Stiles was saying was relevant, it was just too much to hear at eight in the morning. Stiles was trying, though, everyone else was just coming up with nothing. Stiles was actually narrowing down what he thought it was (he was convinced it was something to do with the ‘beacon’ part of Beacon Hills). So far, everybody else was scratching their heads and following his lead.

“Hey, so, did you see the look Lydia gave me last night? Dude, she’s totally into me,” Stiles said eventually. The change in conversation nearly gave Scott whiplash.

“Lydia? Weren’t you giving Malia looks last night?” Scott frowned **.** Stiles shrugged. So, what if he was? Sure, they’d ended it a while ago, but it’s not like they hadn’t had sex since. They both had needs, and Lydia was seeing someone. Or, she said she was when Stiles had asked.

“Maybe, but Lydia Martin was looking at _me_ , Scott,” Stiles smiled, eyes dreamy. He’d been in love with her since the third grade.

“Stiles, she’s been your friend for a while now, she looks at you every day,” Scott laughed. They turned down the hall to the history rooms, taking the first door on the left into their classroom.

“You know what I mean, this might be the time we finally-”

“Finally, what, Mr Stilinski? Find your seats and let me teach my class, on time?” The new history teacher sniped, looking over her half-moon glasses at him. Mrs McNully did not like him, at all. Stiles silenced, muttering something snarky under his breath. They were five minutes early, according to his watch.

Stiles took his seat beside Scott and behind Malia, who was clearly sleeping at her desk. There was an empty seat beside her where Kira should sit, but Kira wasn’t coming back any time soon. Sometimes Scott would stare at it, expecting her to be there. Seeing it empty was like a punch to the gut.

Mrs McNully wrote the date on the whiteboard, then wrote the topic in the middle in huge letters. They were starting a new chapter today, and Scott could feel the migraine forming already.

The teacher tried to engage everyone in the class, but they were having none of it. Three people were actually asleep and most were on their phones. They weren’t being very discreet, but since the explosion, a few rules had… lapsed, and people could get away with a lot more.

There was a strong knock at the door, pausing Mrs McNully midsentence. The deputy principal opened the door, ushering in a student who was looking at the floor. Stiles looked her up and down. She was pretty, he guessed. Wasn’t really his type.

Scott glanced up at her then back down to his book. He was so behind on the reading.

“Class, meet our new student, Ellie Fitzroy.” The principal nodded, then handed a file to McNully. They were murmuring to each other, too quiet for anyone but Scott to hear, about the girl’s transcripts.

Ellie shuffled to a free seat at the front of the class between Carrie Grantham and Daniel Patrick. They were the worst crowd for her to fall into, Stiles thought, but made no attempt to steer her away from them.

Somehow, her shoe snagged on the desk leg, and she tripped, grabbing onto the desk for support. The class erupted in laughter. Tough break.

“Alright settle down,” Mrs McNully snapped, closing the door behind the leaving principal, “Can anyone tell me the significance of the event we’ve just been discussing?”

 

After history, Scott had a free period, which he spent in the library, staring at the bestiary, scrolling through mindlessly.

_Werewolves, Kanima, Tricksters, Barbagezi, Sirens, Nymphs, The Pooka, Dragons, Banshees, Hellhounds_ … None of them could cause those sorts of reactions. Scott knew there had to be things that the Argents hadn’t met, or things they had taken down without writing down, but it was starting to get at him. How could this be the first time this had happened?

Deaton had said they should be looking older than the Argent’s bestiary, but finding books that old that weren’t locked up in a museum was a miracle.

He’d read the page on fae-folk four times before he realised he was reading but nothing was going in. The note pad beside him was pitifully empty, nothing written except the word supernatural, which he had underlined three times.

Scott didn’t want to give up now when there was so much to read, but he had no idea what he was looking for. The bestiary was ridiculously unhelpful, though Stiles had told him a few of the entries in the back were a possibility, though they were less entries and more the ramblings of someone who was trying to figure out what they had found, with a few descriptions of phantom lights and something called The Wild Hunt had a few mentions, but that sounded nothing like what Scott and Stiles had seen.

They had no idea what they looking for. It felt like looking for a needle in a stack of identical needles.

He shook his head and flipped to the front of the bestiary. He had twenty-seven minutes left of his free period, and he knew he had to find something, anything, even the smallest chunk of information, or people would start giving up. The government’s story had already half convinced Scott’s mom.

_Here goes nothing_ , he thought.

 

 

********

 

The jeep rounded the corner, back wheels catching slightly. Stiles was driving way above the speed limit, and he was hoping there were no cameras in the area.

Beside him, Scott followed a map, telling him where to take turns. Someone had called Deaton to say they’d seen Derek three miles away from the border of Beacon County, and everyone had sprung into action.

Derek had been missing for six months. He’d been texting weekly updates, calling them with leads, telling people where he was staying, until suddenly nothing. The last they’d heard he was heading back down to Mexico, helping hunters take down a rogue fae. According to them, Derek never arrived.

Malia, Liam, and Hayden were scouring every inch of the woods around Beacon Hills, hoping he was finally coming home. Braeden, who had been M.I.A. for a while, had said she would go back to Mexico, hoping to find him in one of their safe houses, but that had been a month ago.

“Left, left, left!” Scott yelled, and Stiles turned, hard.

“My dad is so going to kill me,” Stiles muttered, pressing the gas down as far as it would go.  
Derek had to be there. This was the first tip they’d had in over two months. It was time for Derek to come home. Stiles knew he and Derek hadn’t been the best of friends, but they _had_ been friends, and Derek being missing was keeping him up at night.

Derek being missing on top of finding out what happened to Beacon Hills, trying to maintain his grade point average, attempting to appear like a normal, social teenager, and waiting for the next threat to come along was turning him into a quivering wreck.

They all were.

Beside him, Scott was practically vibrating with hope. Derek was going to be there; they were going to find him. He kept repeating the same lines over and over again. Stiles wasn’t sure who Scott was trying to convince.

He couldn’t be dead, Scott had reasoned, Lydia would know.

“Take the next right, and then an immediate left, the bar is down there,” Scott turned the map in his hands, trying to work out if he’d given the right instructions. He nodded, then pointed to the turning point.

Stiles could make out the bar between the trees. It looked like such a dive, the paint peeling on the outside and windows broken. It didn’t look used, but the carpark outside proved otherwise.

According to Deaton, it was favoured by hunters, but it wasn’t an official meet up point, just conveniently secluded.

As soon as Stiles pulled to a stop, Scott was out, sniffing the air. He couldn’t smell Derek, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t here.

They made their way around the trees, Scott looking out for Derek’s scent anywhere. Nothing. He couldn’t smell human Derek, or werewolf Derek.

“Maybe we should take a look inside?” Stiles supplied, pointing behind with his thumb. He felt totally useless.

Scott’s shoulders sagged, and he nodded, following Stiles back to the building. They looked around the outside, slightly afraid to enter. They didn’t exactly have the upper hand if there were 30 hunters inside. Scott took a breath and opened the door, Stiles following behind him.

Inside it was worse, and reeked of stale beer and urine.

Why anyone would come here, ever, was beyond Stiles.

The barman was eyeing the both of them suspiciously, like they didn’t get many newcomers. He poured two beers from the tap and set them on the bar, pushing them in Scott and Stiles’ direction.

They walked over to the bar, noticing everybody was staring. There were six burly men in the corner, all wearing leather, looking like they were ready to lunge at a moment’s notice; Scott swore he heard safety catches being released on guns.

 “Boys,” He nodded. They nodded back, picking up the beers. They smelled awful, and Stiles was sure there were things floating in his. “We don’t usually get strangers here,”

“Really?” Stiles said. “But the place is so beautiful,”

Scott stilled. _Stiles_. He was going to get them killed. Stiles and his fucking mouth.

The barman laughed, pointing at Stiles. Some of the men around laughed, too, though it felt forced. Scott released the breath he was holding.

“You’re funny. Funny man. What brings you to these parts? I know it’s not the food,”

“We’re looking for our friend,” Scott leaned forward, the beer in his hand splashing onto the counter. “We think he might have come through here. Stiles, do you have the picture?”

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles fumbled in his pocket for the picture, which had been folded and refolded so many times, there was a white line down the middle permanently. He handed it to the barman, who regarded it slowly, looking from the picture to Scott and Stiles every now and then.

“Has he done something wrong? I don’t want any trouble here,” There was a snigger that passed through the room. Clearly, there was always trouble here.

“No, nothing like that. He’s missing.” Scott looked down.

“Missing? Usually when people go missing it means they don’t want to be found,” The barman smirked a little, passing the picture to the next person at the bar. “You seen him, Merl?”

Merl looked at the picture carefully, even putting on glasses to look at it. He shook his head, then passed it round. Everyone shook their heads.

Nobody recognised Derek. Nobody had seen him.

“Are you sure, can you look again?” Stiles tried, giving the picture back to the barman. “He’s not one to just take off.”

That was a lie, but they didn’t have to know that.

“Listen, I’ll tell you what I told the last guy snooping round. If people come here, it means they have something to hide from. If your friend is here, which he’s not, it means he’s in trouble, and he’s laying low,” He pushed the picture into Scott’s hands. Scott sighed, defeated.

“So what is this place? Safe house for criminals?” Stiles asked, glancing around at the people in the bar.

“Something like,” The barman leered, cleaning at the beer Scott had spilled.

Scott could tell Stiles had more questions and he elbowed Stiles to shut him up. If Derek wasn’t here, they had no business being here, either.

Scott placed some money on to the bar, telling him to keep the change, and they made their way out. Scott held his breath, expecting to be stopped and told they wouldn’t be able to leave. Stiles kept his eyes on his jeep, kept looking forward, until they were home free.

They peeled out of the parking lot, neither talking until they were a few miles out.

“Scott,” Stiles said, looking over at his friend. Scott was slumped against the door, looking out of the window. “Scott, we’ll find him.”

“Don’t.” Scott warned. Stiles swore he heard Scott’s voice waiver. Scott watched as the trees passed by in a blur, passing cars a haze of colour. He didn’t want to talk.

He needed Derek to be there.

  
******

They made it back to Beacon Hills just after midnight. Malia was waiting on Scott’s doorstep, Liam and Hayden nowhere in sight. Malia looked up expectantly, as if Derek was going to get out of the car.

When she saw it was just the two of them, her shoulders drooped.

“Any luck here?” Stiles asked, but he could already tell her answer from her face. Of course, they hadn’t seen him, she wouldn’t let them live it down if she’d found him first. Scott and Stiles sat either side of her on the step, staring out at the road.

“Hey,” Malia knocked Scott with her shoulder. It was so glaringly Stiles that it made Scott smile. “We’ll find him, right?” She had a gentle smile on her face, and Scott noted how incredibly young she looked right now.

“I’m not so sure,” He sighed.

“It’s not like he’s lying in a ditch somewhere crying for our help,” Malia shrugged, glancing down at her nails.

“Oh, my God, Malia, not helping,” Stiles shouted, side-eyeing her. She was comforting, until that point.

“What? I’m just saying he isn’t!”

“It’s the way you-”

“Stiles, it’s fine. She was trying.” Scott said, leaning his head on Malia’s shoulder. She didn’t quite understand how that comforted people, but she knew it did, so she didn’t shrug him off like she usually would.

Stiles budged in closer, touching his temple to hers, and they stayed like that, watching cars, until the sun came up over the tops of the houses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda made a sort of trailer for this, and I'm not really sure how else to post it other than the full link so....   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1C1NAWowmU4 
> 
> Let me know what you think? To either?


	3. Stagnation

_Click, click, click, click._

There were whispers and wolf whistles as Lydia Martin made her way down the school corridor. She might have been a banshee who fought the supernatural every day after school, but she still had it. She definitely still had it if the look on Greenberg’s face was anything to go by.

She loved the attention, it made her feel powerful, and it silenced that voice in her head telling her she wasn’t loved. The voice telling her nobody cared.

She waved to her friends as she stopped to drop off some books for the day in her locker. She touched up her lipstick and Stiles swore he saw her wink at him.

“Pick your jaw up, Stilinski,” Liam jested as Lydia made her way past, on her way to homeroom. Stiles stuttered and stammered, eyes following Lydia. God, she was so beautiful. So, so beautiful, and she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

Liam waved his hand in front of Stiles’ eyes.

“Hm?” Stiles looked around, as if realising where he was.

“Are you with us?” Liam laughed, closing his locker door. Stiles gave a nod and leaned back. Liam thought he was going to break into song.

“Sorry, I’m tired, we were up, you know,” Stiles trailed.

“Yeah. Where’s Scott?”

“Library, him and Malia are looking up something Deaton sent over this morning,” Stiles shouldered his bag, and they started walking up to the second floor. They both had homeroom on the second floor.

“Him and Malia, eh?” Liam cocked his eyebrow.

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Stiles said. Plus, Stiles had made it very clear to Scott that she was off limits, being his ex and all. Best friends don’t date exes.

As they passed Mr Sawyer’s room, Stiles noticed the new girl looking incredibly lost, staring down at the timetable and map in her hand, looking panicked. He wondered how awful it must be to be the new kid three quarters of the way through the year. Stiles stopped in front of her and pulled the timetable from her hand, looking for homeroom. She looked as though she was going to protest, until she noticed him.

“Over there.” He gave his best smile and pointed to Miss Rodriguez in 207. They were in the same homeroom, but he didn’t plan on going for another ten minutes. That woman had had it out for him since she took over Coach’s homeroom, and he didn’t plan on spending any longer than he needed to there.

The new girl – God, he couldn’t remember her name – gave him a smile, and turned, heading for 207.

Liam shot Stiles a look.

“Who was that?” He teased.

“New girl, can’t remember her name. Started yesterday.” Stiles answered, staring forward.   
Liam dropped it after that, preferring to talk about lacrosse instead. Who did Stiles think was in with a chance of captain next year? Did he think coach would leave after this year? Stiles answered as though he cared, but he really didn’t, and Liam could tell, but appreciated him trying.

After Stiles walked Liam to homeroom, he stopped by the library, but Scott and Malia were already gone. He walked back towards Miss Rodriguez’s room, and found his usual seat beside Lydia was taken, by Lydia herself, so he sat one behind, in front of the new girl. Scott and Malia were already there, sat next to Stiles and Lydia.

They both looked exhausted.

Miss Rodriguez took roll call, gave a few announcements (the pool was still cordoned off after the explosion, and there would be a memorial assembly on the 17th, that everyone must attend), then let everyone go.

Stiles let the new girl pass through the door first. He heard her laugh at something someone said, then she slipped into the crowd.

Stiles and Scott had gym first, and they spent most of it on the bench, feigning injuries from lacrosse practice two nights ago, talking about Derek, and the explosion, and how Stiles was one thousand percent sure he was failing Spanish.

Coach bounced around, calling out everyone for their poor form, and how pathetic they looked.

“If these idiots weren’t so banged up from _actually applying themselves_ , they’d be running _circles_ around you!” He shouted, pointing directly at Stiles. Since joining the lacrosse team (and becoming Coach’s favourite players), it was so easy to skip gym and have Coach mark them down as if they participated.

“Do you think the Calavera’s will send us their bestiary?” Stiles said once Coach’s attention was off them. “It’s just, the Argent’s is incredibly Euro-centric.”

“I guess?” Scott didn’t even know how he could get hold of the Calavera’s anymore, except driving down to Mexico. Half of them had been wiped out by an Ahuitzotl and Scott had no idea who was alive and who wasn’t.

Stiles was beginning to run out of options, but he was trying to make it look like he wasn’t grasping at straws. Everything was coming up empty.

Stiles and Lydia had even tried using her banshee thing to see if she could hear anything about what had happened from the dead, but nothing. Deaton had said he would try it again, but Stiles knew Deaton was as clueless as the rest of them.

Coach kept Scott and Stiles behind after class to try to coax out the real reason they sat out _(“it’s drugs, isn’t it? Oh God, it’s drugs, I knew this would happen someday!”_ ), but they stuck with their stories.

After school, everyone made their way to Deaton’s office, including Lydia, who had been transcribing archaic Latin for the past three nights, after Deaton’s ‘friend’ sent them some more information. She looked good for someone who claimed she’d not slept for three days.

“This was a bust,” She threw down the manila folder, and opened it up, pulling out some of the pages. “Basically, end of days, earthquakes, tremors, you name it, it’s all in here,”

“And why is that a bust?” Malia grabbed at the folder, reading some of the translated pages.

“It gives a date, the year 79 A.D.,” Everyone looked around, unsure of the relevance, “Pompeii, guys, it's basically some Roman essay on what happened at Pompeii.”

“Ah, shit.” Stiles cursed under his breath.

“So, you’re saying what happened at Pompeii couldn’t have happened here?” Malia looked confused. She had no idea what this Pompeii was.

“Malia, Pompeii was, it was a volcano. There’s no volcanos in Beacon Hills.” Lydia explained, looking around for help.

Malia nodded, though she still had no idea what Pompeii was. She felt a little dumb, everyone else knew what Lydia was talking about except her. It wasn’t her fault that she’d spent the majority of her life as a werecoyote.

Stiles bumped her shoulder, trying to make her feel better.

“Someone from Chile is sending me some files, but they can’t promise it’ll do us any good.” Deaton said, putting his hands in his trouser pockets.

“What files?” Scott asked.

“Someone who’s dedicated their entire life to researching… phantom lights and the phenomena around it,” Deaton read from a piece of paper in his pocket.

“Oh, so that’ll be a bust, too,” Lydia muttered, mostly to herself. Everyone heard her, but nobody dared to comment. They knew their options were wearing thin. Things were silent for a while, nobody sure what to say at first, but then the quiet stretched on and on.

“Have you heard anything else on Derek?” Scott asked when the silence became too uncomfortable for him.

“No, unfortunately not,” Deaton frowned. “I’ve heard from a hunter in Idaho who says a peace treaty will hold until he’s found. Unless he attacks them first,”

“A peace treaty? Hunters make peace treaties?” Scott snarked.

“They do when they owe you favours,” Deaton replied, simply. “It’s not all of them, just some,”

Things became uncomfortably silent again.

“I think we should all go home, get some sleep. I didn’t sleep last night and Lydia’s been up for three days working on this, I think we’re all tired and need rest before jumping into this,” Scott looked down at the pile of books Deaton had brought from home, some which hadn’t seen the light of day since Derek’s mother had died.

Everybody murmured their agreement, packing things away before going their separate ways. Scott tried not to feel a pang of jealousy when he saw Stiles and Malia leave together, Stiles’ hands ghosting on Malia’s hips. He didn’t like Malia, he just missed that. Going home with someone. With Kira. With Allison. Anyone.

He didn’t exactly have time to date while he was trying to save Beacon Hills.

He waved goodnight to Deaton, who returned the gesture. He walked through the clinic to the parking lot, trying to get his mind on anything but Kira, anything but Derek or what happened three weeks ago.

He swung his leg over his bike and kicked at the stand, planting his feet firmly on the ground. He stared at the dashboard for a minute before putting his keys in the ignition. It took him four attempts to start the engine. He revved the engine for a second, listening for something wrong, then sped out of the parking lot. He took the shortcut home, instead of riding around on his bike because he could.

Once home, Scott walked his bike round to the back garden, then let himself in through the backdoor, locking it behind him. He made himself some dinner, then sat and watched TV, falling asleep on the sofa, fully dressed.

 

 

******

 

“So, how are you finding it here at Beacon Hills?” Lydia smiled down at the new girl, who was assigned to sit next to her in biology.

“Good, I guess,” Ellie said, not taking her eyes away from the worksheet they’d been given. Ellie would be lying if she said Beacon Hills High had been everything she hoped, but what did she think would happen transferring three months from the end of school?

“Any boys?” Lydia asked, eyes wide and mischievous. If there was one thing that Lydia Martin was good at, it was setting people up.

“Well, there’s one,” Ellie put down her pen and folded her arms. Her face was tinted red, and Lydia knew exactly what the look she was giving meant. Lydia gave a look that said _go on_ so she did. “He’s in a few of my classes, he sits near me in world history,”

Lydia thought about where everyone sat in world history, counting how many spaces back from her that Kira had sat.

“Oh God, it’s not Greenberg, is it?” Lydia gasped, appalled. Surely, she would have better taste.

“Who’s that?” Ellie shrugged. She had no idea what the guy’s name was.

Lydia looked around the room and found Greenberg, playing with the gas taps, which, thankfully, were off. She pointed him out to Ellie, who looked wide eyed.

“God, no! No, it’s not him.” She picked up her pen and started writing again. Lydia smiled at how red Ellie had gone. It was nice to talk to someone normal, someone who wasn’t in the pack. It had been hard to maintain friendships out of the group, and eventually she stopped trying, but it didn’t mean she didn’t miss someone to be normal with. “What about you, do you have a boyfriend?”

“There is this one guy, I don’t know,” Lydia looked off, as if she was picturing him, “but Cosmo says to act totes unavailable and it’ll send ‘em wild, and force them to make the first move.”

Ellie hummed in response. She had no idea how guys worked. She’d never had a boyfriend. She might have held hands with someone once, but it turned out to be her cousin so she didn’t count it.

Lydia was quiet for a minute, but she looked as though she really wanted to speak.

“His name’s Stiles,” She said, eventually. “We… He’s liked me since the third grade and I don’t know if I like him because I like him, or if I like him because he likes me.”

“Is he here now?” Ellie asked, looking around.

“No,” Lydia sighed. “I don’t know. Cosmo said I should hit it and quit it, best of both worlds, you know? I just don’t want to break his heart.”

“Who’s Cosmo?” Ellie knitted her eyebrows together. It was the second time she’d heard the name, and she felt like it was something she should know.

Lydia laughed, covering her eyes with her hand.

“Cosmo, Els, Cosmopolitan, the magazine?” She grinned, still laughing.

“Oh! Yeah, I’ve never read it.” Ellie said, trying not to feel warm at the fact Lydia had called her _Els_.

“How? You have so much to learn.” Lydia looked genuinely surprised. “Also, I’d like it if you kept that Stiles thing to yourself, I don’t even know why I told you, I haven’t even told my diary,”

They giggled, and Ellie wondered if this was the start of a beautiful friendship.

By the next period, she knew being friends with Lydia Martin was no easy task. She sat beside a girl she introduced as Malia and a boy she introduced as Scott, but there was no Stiles, or the boy that Ellie liked.

They were on a table of four, and Ellie felt pushed out and isolated from the second she sat down, like she didn’t belong or as if she wasn’t worth their time.

Ellie pushed it to the back of her mind and focused on her physics teacher trying to explain quantum theories basic concepts.

 

 

*************

 

Ellie sat next to the boy she liked next period, who seemed to recognise her. Or maybe he recognised she was new. Either way, she liked the way he looked at her when she sat down next to him.

They didn’t say a single word to each other the entire period (mostly because Econ was filled with the teacher talking continually), but Ellie kept stealing glances when she knew the teacher wasn’t looking her way. The teacher, who everyone was calling Coach, seemed to be constantly asking her if she knew what they were talking about. Thankfully, her old high school were a chapter ahead, at least.

“Can anyone explain what PPF is? Uh, Stilinski,” Coach pointed with his pen to the boy next to Ellie. She finally had a name for the boy she liked, even if it was an odd one.

“Production Possibility Frontier,” Stilinski sounded unsure of himself. Coach folded his arms, as if expecting more.

“Which is?” He demanded, staring at Stilinski intensely.

“The maximum possible outcome of three, no, two services an economy can achieve when all resources are employed.”

“Good. Well, looks like somebody actually did the reading. There’s a first time for everything,” Coach tried to sound angry, but everyone could see the smile he was trying to hide. Stilinski looked as shocked as everybody else that he knew it, and Ellie had to cover the smile on her face with her hand.

The rest of the day went by normally. Ellie sat with a boy she’d seen in maths at lunch, but they didn’t talk, and she watched him pick at the food in front of him before leaving, tray in hand, and shoving everything in the trash.

After lunch, classes were boring, but she shared a few with Stilinski, and he even spoke to her, albeit to ask for a pen, but he spoke to her.

When she got home, she told her mom everything about Stilinski, and Lydia, and even Scott and Malia. Her mom was happy she was making friends, and told her she should invite them round some time. When it was decorated, of course.

Ellie knew it was a little premature, but she started making party plans.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave feedback so I know you like it :)


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